


Repentance

by attches



Series: Retribution [1]
Category: Bellamione - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25943602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attches/pseuds/attches
Summary: The radioactive explosion of Hogwarts allows for a muggle group to rise to the top of the wizarding hierarchy. Under muggle leadership, the top three figures of the light and dark causes must fight each other to repent for their world's destruction, as only one from each side can survive. Prologue to Retribution. Full description inside. A hint of Bellamione.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Series: Retribution [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882927
Kudos: 12





	1. Where's Hogwarts?

**Description:** The war is won by the light, but that’s hardly on anyone’s mind these days. Wizarding Britain remains aware and in fear of the rising amounts of radioactive decay that is spreading throughout their world. Under the guidance of the Unknown, a small muggle group, everyone must now limit their use of magic in certain areas. Now, as it is the wish of the Unknown’s leader, the top three who each represented the dark and light must fight to the death in order to repent for the destruction they brought. Fortunately and unfortunately for them, only one person from each side is allowed to live.

 **Note:** Hello all. Just wanted to say I’ve been a fan of Bellamione since roughly 2011 and after reading countless amazing fics, my favorite being N. Blackman's Caught in Time series, I finally decided to try it out. If you want, tell me your opinions and I believe my messaging is open. I am not sure about any updating schedule but I do have a fairly clear outline of where this will go, which should, time permitting, hopefully become somewhat regular. Also disclaimer, I neither own nor profit off of this. Thanks. :]

**Prologue: Where’s Hogwarts?**

The war was finally over and Hermione felt relieved, it was as if her life began anew. She, Harry, and Ron stood over the bridge as they each took a moment and pondered on the fact that this was the first time any of them had been in the magical world without the possible threat of Voldemort. It was refreshing. Actually, she surmised, it was more than refreshing, it was the weight of their world being taken off the Trio’s collective shoulder. Before she could further consider the implicative notion of acknowledging the three’s heavy influence on the previous generation’s war, Hermione was shaken out of her thoughts. With a comment on her tongue waiting to dive off, the young woman quickly spun around only to have those very same words that were once eager to be heard scramble away as the ground began to shake once more.

“What is going on?” She asked the boys, willing them for any explanation. To her utter disappointment, neither said a word and instead chose to redirect the question back to her. Both boys’ eyes were wide and Hermione took a moment to survey the surroundings. Directly in front of her were the boys, facing her, with Hogwarts behind them. The school, while having sustained major structural damage, was still standing and Hermione took a moment to be thankful for whatever luck they might still have.

Of course, the universe is always impartial and everything must continue in the way it always has, with little to no regard for its inhabitants. This is what the war-torn woman told herself as her eyes searched for the shaking’s locations. So far she could only assume each occurrence was dependent on the previous, as they seemed to follow a trail of sorts. The trail, which seemed to start at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, was working its way closer to the recuperating building. Today, it seemed, would not be easy though Hermione could think of very few who’d consider defeating the Dark Lord as, for lack of a better term, a simple task.

With more haste than she had witnessed herself possessing throughout the war, Hermione found herself ordering the boys to help evacuate the building while they still had some time. She would go to the first location to try and figure out a way to stop the impending collapse. This was the only rational thing she could do. Both sides would be inside and under Shacklebolt’s interim position, though they all knew he would eventually become minister. And there needed to be at least one person to attempt to stop the inevitable and who better than the Smartest Witch of Her Age, a name the news journalists had given her that had now become a pervading aspect of her identity. Before she could further digress into something that could only be referred to as a deep hatred for the Daily Prophet and Skeeter herself, Hermione found herself near the first vibration.

Having the brains to back up her long-standing title, the Gryffindor deducted the search best be left to a charm, since she did not want to risk the potential volatility of the area. Unfortunately for her, the moment the spell began to act, the ground exploded. The distance was far away enough that she wouldn’t be killed or seriously injured but close enough for her to be thrown backwards a few feet.

When Hermione stood up, the first thing she noticed were her ears ringing. The same ringing sensation experienced in the muggle world that could be caused by a gunshot’s force or an explosion. The second thing that appeared odd was the color of the ground underneath the area that had exploded. As she stepped closer to get a better look, Hermione could feel the magical energy in the air as if suspended and waiting for another shot. She quickly pocketed her wand, magic would do no good in the situation and it might even have caused the explosions.

The ground suddenly dipped down, like the drop off of the ocean floor and extended outwards a few feet to create the appearance of a crater. The image reminded Hermione of the moon’s craters and of her and her father’s interest in astronomy. The memory felt so foreign, so distant, it was from a simpler time before she knew of magical abilities. In the center and within the layers of ground lay clusters of what appeared to be mineral deposits. Whatever happened seemed to be related to the granular structures in an extreme reaction to magic, this was not good. She would need to head back immediately, since it seemed nothing could quickly prevent the approaching threat. It seemed, she figured, that what occurred was a natural, albeit alchemical, response.

 _Crunch!_ The sound of the forest floor shifting alerted Hermione. It seemed she was not alone. Peering into the dense undergrowth, she swore she could see eyes looking back. Before she could react, she felt her body being grabbed from behind as a man restrained her limbs and the forest’s eyes walked out. He was a rather ordinary man wearing khakis and a plain shirt, nothing stood out to her as different. Despite her initial observation, the witch could feel a sense of dread creep up on her. It was something she hadn’t noticed before but what? And then it hit her. The man neither held a wand nor was he dressed in robes, he was a stray muggleborn at best and a curious muggle at worse.

Her eyes moved rapidly, the muscles shifted in a pattern different from REM but equally sporadic, as she scanned the man. He was holding a small rectangular box that mimicked the classic tell-tale signs of muggle technology while seemingly searching for something nearby. A beep that increased in speed was the only thing that hinted to Hermione that whatever the man was searching for was nearby. The man stopped walking when he approached the woman and the sound’s frequency increased so much so that it now sounded as a single _Beep!_ rather than multiple sets on a loop. The man took a moment to look between the device and the hole, which now included Hermione, the man, and the bodyguard who held her still. His eyes flitted back and forth before a slow smile grew.

“This is it, Dilbert. The radioactivity appears quite substantial!”

Hermione could feel Dil nod approvingly. Before the men could continue, the ground began to shake once more. The explosion was heard before it was felt. The noise was an awful resounding crack that resonated throughout the countryside. She could feel herself lose color as Dil began to move the three back into the forest and Hogwarts began to crumble. It was small at first, the occasional explosion near the perimeter. Then, as if in slow motion, parts of the school began to fly off. The wings and towers were the first to fall, followed by the observatory and what seemed like the rest, it was hard to get a clear image through the rising dust.

It felt as if heaven and earth came falling down, with a sound so loud it could be heard from Hogsmeade, and the force was so great that the three could feel the ground struggle to bear the weight of the collapsing, ruined structure. The great school that withstood both time and war, had now fallen and nobody knew what to do next.


	2. Change

**1: Change**

The Fall of Hogwarts, though it was a few months ago and not technically a fall, more like a half collapse- half explosion, reverberated throughout wizarding Britain like the pressure induced ringing immediately felt by those nearby. It was later found out that the Golden Girl, another dubbing given to Hermione by the media, was the one to save the evacuees by ordering the boys to vacate the premises. And, while they did not in fact fully head off the property, a detail Hermione was not quick to forget, the boys were able to safely relocate all of the recuperating to Quidditch Stadium. Her legend grew. Not only was she muggleborn, she was also the Brightest Witch of Her Age, the Golden Girl, and the Saviour of the Light and Dark, a fitting name for the young woman who saved nearly a twenty-fifth of the european wizarding population.

Kingsley had been working hard to reestablish order within the Ministry while attempting to secure the work needed to be done to officially recognize him as the interim, and eventual, Minister. The Death Eaters were being held in the depths of the Ministry, nobody wanting to attempt the travel required for Azkaban. The Daily Prophet continued to cover the Battle and Fall of Hogwarts and everyone was getting tired of it, there were more important things to consider. In the tumult, Harry and Hermione had spent the first few nights at the Borrow but had later decided to stay at 12 Grimmauld Place until the magical world was rebuilt. There were many changes that followed, but the biggest surprise came with the man from the forest who had been with Hermione before The Fall.

His name was Mister President, the Trio would sometimes joke that the name was so unoriginal that the feminine form of his name would be simply Madame President, and nobody was prepared for him. The man was a muggle who claimed to be a researcher for the private sector concerned about the high traces of radiation throughout Great Britain. When asked how he knew about the wizarding world, Mister would simply shrug and glance at Dil, a squib of little words. He was a man who turned out to be more charismatic than Voldemort or Dumbledore.

As the last batte’s numbers were being tallied, a method used by McGonagall to quell the masses while they stood in the field, Mister, Hermione, and a group of emerging men, assumably muggles, began to walk towards the others on the other side of the property. Nobody had paid them much attention until they had approached the entrance.

“Hands up, show them they mustn’t use magic,” he had instructed her quietly. She did as advised. Despite knowing the man had possessed seemingly far more information than she had been able to gather previously and wanted to prevent another accident, Hermione was on edge. Something was off about this man but she couldn’t quite place her finger on it, some sort of gut feeling hinting at an unidentifiable fear. Maybe it was instinct or perhaps they were able to rapidly adapt to survive whatever situation may come their way, a possible skill that had been developed during hunt for horcruxes. Either way, this was the beginning of the end, not Voldemort’s defeat.

Recollecting her thoughts, Hermione wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t followed along. Would everything be okay? Was she the reason for all of this? This was self deprecating nonsense and she knew it of course, being aware of this, however, did not stop her from second guessing her role in the events that had unfolded. When they had arrived, it took a moment to get everyone’s attention, another moment for them to see the other, smaller group, yet another moment to realize they were muggles and not immediately obliviate, and a final moment for every person to put their wand away.

By the time Mister was about to speak, the moon had crept subtly into the sky and everyone watched the man whose silhouette darkened against the illumination create the presence of something ominous. His voice was clear and crisp and carried a power akin to Grindlewald’s.

“As I briefly explained earlier, the use of magic right now is extremely ill advised due to the unstable reaction that would occur. My team and I are not here to intervene on anything magical, we only wish to ensure the security of our country. Needless to say, if a certain…” He took a moment to consider his words, careful and delicate. There was a flash in his eyes and Hermione could swear they gleamed with a promise unknown and unseen by all except the one who could prevent such circumstances. He continued, “situation was to arise that involved the unknown, radioactive, and toxic substance in reaction to magic, the explosion would trigger a chain reaction throughout the country, as it did with the school. While we have yet to discover the element reacting, it would appear that an accumulation of magic has built up across the UK.

“However, there seems to be a much higher concentration in the Highlands of Scotland. This magical concentration disguises itself as a higher altitude to the untrained person. And for the past few months, we have been tracking the changes and location of each area of concern. What happened today was something we had hoped to prevent. Your magic collectively tipped the metaphoric scale. Before, the ratio, though always slightly increasing, was equal. As that sinks in, I request a word with the leader so that we may decide how to best go about this.”

After the speech was over, Mister and Kingsley were able to step away. None the wiser without magic, it was agreed that the Ministry would work under the guidance of Mister’s covert rank, the Unknown.

Since then, magic was no longer allowed in any populated areas. All that remained of Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and parts of the Ministry, to name a few, were the broken buildings the Death Eaters visited during their Lord’s second rise. These days it felt like blood supremacy was almost a thing of the past. Without the allowance of magic in the public sphere, there was very little reason to go out. And nobody dared test the Mister President, his name now included the definite article as well, or Wizarding Britain’s fragile state of questionable stability. Wizards and witches holed themselves up while the Unknown and Ministry were working together to resume everyday life.

For the time being, Mister and his group stayed in a wizarding apartment, a place that’s sole advertisement was its floo network connection to the Ministry, and have been the only known muggles allowed into the wizarding world. With house elves, who now called the man Master Mister President, to tend to his team’s needs and unrestricted access to the Ministry, the Unknowns devoted half of their time to the situation at hand and the other to maintaining a uniform country-wide agreement to abstain from magic.

As the days grew into weeks and those weeks stretched to months, a faction of the wizarding population was quickly becoming disillusioned. More disagreements regarding the validity of the Second Wizarding War grew and the people became restless. A scapegoat is often easier than identifying and solving the real problem, so they called for retribution from the Light and Dark. The Wizengamot had lost too many of its members to be considered for a fair and equal verdict, but that didn’t matter because, after the stunt from Azkaban a few years ago, nobody trusted governmental policy or the prison’s security.

Some days ago, it was announced that the Ministry was, under Mister’s impartial counsel, working to address the growing discontent. And so Harry and Hermione found themselves waiting with baited breath as the Daily Prophet began its circulation of their decision, which, word had been, came in the form of a decree.


	3. The 67th Decree

**Note:** Just so you all are aware, I think the final length of this is going to become the equivalent of a novella. Also thank you for reading.

**2: The 67th Decree**

**DECREE STATEMENT 67 UNDER REASONABLE RESTRICTION**

**To repent for the destruction of the mighty Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as well as prevent the loss of magical Great Britain, it is declared that three symbols from both the Order and Death Eaters will be chosen as sacrifice. All must fight but only one representative from each may live. Use of the Unforgivables will be permitted.**

It was an executive order from the Ministry’s Improper Use of Magic Office. It was extreme and it was suffocating. So much so that Harry and Hermione, upon receiving the news, immediately flooed to the Weasleys, both seeking comfort from the boisterous family. Everyone knew this and yet nobody could do a thing about it. And because of that, Hermione was seething. To her right was Harry, bless him, looking so lost and dejected, she wanted to go hug him but knew that wouldn’t help the situation at hand. A little farther away on her left sat Ron, with his head down and stooped shoulders, Hermione could tell her was thinking something. Or perhaps mourning for himself, an idea she found amusing but dared not linger on it for fear of rousing Ron’s hero-complex. In two day’s time, they were to be placed into an arena with three Death Eaters. The Trio had no misbeliefs that they would be the representatives of the Light. Though, she wasn’t quite sure who’d be chosen from the dark. She’d assume one of them would be Bellatrix, the renowned torturer, prodigy, and brightest witch of her own age.

Hermione hadn’t thought of the last lieutenant since the Final Battle. And suddenly, she found herself wondering if the woman had survived the fall and a small part of the Gryffindor secretly hoped the enigmatic witch had, willing the idea into existence. Frowning, she considered the implications. Is this her own warped desire for heroism or just some latent form of Stockholm Syndrome? What if the answer was not either of the two? Would that be worse? Her thoughts were interrupted by Ron muttering something about being two decrees short.

After figuring out the meaning of the weak attempted joke and before the Golden Girl’s scowl could develop any further than it already had, a Ministry owl flew into the open window of the Burrow. Harry was the one to grab the parchment off the leg. There was barely a moment before the bird, in a hurry and too professional for treats, began to prepare itself for take off again. The young man’s eyes darkened as he attempted to keep the frown from emerging.

“Kingsley wishes to see the three of us midday.”

“Blimey, that’s in an hour.”

Following Ron’s outburst, the Trio accepted this and would prepare accordingly. After all, that’s all that could be done for them in the end. They sat at the table with Molly in the kitchen and the twins in the living room, no doubt creating a new gag item for when the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes would open back up. Arthur was one of the few who were able to attend work, since he largely dealt with muggle objects. The Weasley matriarch had begun preparing the night’s tea and set out more than enough pastries they needed, given there was only an hour.

“We should try to figure out why he wants to speak with us,” Hermione said, the first to speak. She looked to each of the boys before pausing to continue. Except, another voice spoke up instead.

“What do you mean ‘Mione, we already know Shacklebolt’s betrayed us so he can go be that muggle’s servant and he’s been listening to that man’s poisonous words and now he’s trying to come after us.” said Ron quickly. His face had turned red and Hermione couldn’t tell if it was from letting his anger get the best of him or simply forgetting to breathe. Either way, the ginger’s face now matched his hair. She sighed and shook her head at the fit.

“We can’t be that quick to shrug it off as malicious intent. ‘Mione, what do you think? Don’t you think he might have been forced to agree?” Harry asked as he stood to go look out of the window.

“I definitely don’t think we should rule that possibility out. However, we shouldn’t assume the other one either. This is an uncharted situation, let’s be cautious when we go but we can also hear him out,” the young woman said as she looked pointedly at her calming friend. Both boys were moping by now, absentmindedly nodding along. Hermione decided it was time for another route. “Why don’t go leave now and go the muggle route. The travel might calm all of our nerves.” It was a weak suggestion but it worked and the boys seemed to perk up a bit at this. So off they went, first by apparating into London then by walking through the city until they reached the telephone booth connecting to the wizarding world.

The Ministry was much different now. Gone were the regular uses of everyday magic, and in its place stood something desolate that wished to become obsolete. The inside continued to provide an endless supply of light and the floo network was running, though hardly any wizards came to work these days. Even Aurors found their jobs to be difficult without being able to use or detect magic. It had been widely speculated that the petty thieves, the only ones still willing or able to try, resorted to using muggle practices. This had been deduced one day when a wizard found his door slightly ajar with, what he later found out was, a hair pin left between the door top and frame. Hermione and Harry had both thought this to be rather amusing, seeing as the muggle object was never placed inside the lock itself.

As they walked off the lift, which was as lurching as ever despite only going down one floor, towards Kingsley’s office, Hermione, always the active advocate for S.P.E.W., noticed the influx of elf use. To their credit, the elves did not care or notice, she couldn’t tell which, her open gaping. Repressing the urge to mention this, she quickly marched on to catch up with Harry, who was now at the door. Hermione couldn’t recall a time she had been in the minister’s office before.

“Come in,” Kingsley said as Harry went to knock. Eyes wide, he blushed and quickly stepped back. It was just in time as the grand door swung open and the wood gave a low creak.

Despite the foreboding sense the sound gave, the office itself was nice. The room featured a high ceiling with neatly organized walls covered in bookshelves and portraits of every minister before. Finishing his last thoughts, the wizard gestured for the Trio to sit, which was a welcome distraction for all. Once he was done, the man sighed deeply before looking up.

His eyes were knowledgeable and sorrowful and his voice was gentle as he began, “I’m sure you all know what I wish to discuss so I will not delay this.”

Ron was livid and immediately spat, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you just killed us now. It’s obviously already happening anyways, why not just do it now.” With that, he got up and walked out of the room. Hermione and Harry shared a look of exasperation, noting how quick their friend had erupted despite remaining calm for the entire journey.

When she was sure the pig-headed, temperamental fool wouldn’t come back in, Hermione looked back at the acting minister to continue. Secretly, she was bitter that he hadn’t done or been able to stop Mister from coming into such unchecked power.

They waited as Kinglsey collected his thoughts, looking at the ones he thought he could protect. There was a slight break in his voice when he spoke, “I am sorry for everything and that it led to this. I am under oath to not speak of it, but know that this was the best decision out of the lacking options. This is the most preventive measure…” He trailed off before resuming with a smile, “Think of this as all part of the greater good.” Truthfully, they knew there was nothing that could be said or done anymore. The wizarding world was ravaged, having never fully repaired itself from Grindlewald’s War, and fearful of collapse. Its people hopelessly clung to the words of a man who relied on logic for the solution.

This was the worst part to Hermione. The fact that the once lively and fascinating people were quick to disown the war, its efforts, and its causes. She was a logical person, but even the Brightest Witch of Her Age couldn’t truly understand their reasons. Though, fear has always been a powerful motivator and even more so when there is a fabricated hope.

“What is to happen after?” She asked wearily. The mature young woman, who had been given the task of keeping her best friend and only hope for the Light alive, was now battle tested and hesitant for another repeat war. Even she and Harry knew the Unknown would have been far less forgiving if they had wanted to. This had to be their only choice, Hermione wouldn’t allow anything else. Nothing could be spoken into existence, for to do so would question the muggles’ threats of explosion. Nobody wanted to do this.

Despite having spent her adolescence at Hogwarts, Hermione possessed enough knowledge about muggle chemistry and nuclear fission, she deduced this when the reaction spread through the chain-like path, to know the science was backed up. Whether he was telling the truth or not, Mister had done enough research so that he couldn’t be questioned. And he never was, no one tried. This part surprised her and Harry as well. While walking through muggle London, the two had silently contemplated the reason for this, though no conclusion was ever found.

Kingsley’s age became more prominent as the lighting grew and its shadows began to stretch. The man looked tired and Hermione once again wondered just how powerful the muggle leader had become to cause the rising minister to so swiftly submit.

The question was considered before he spoke, “There are many applicable answers but I think the most important thing to tell you is that he has agreed that this is the only reckoning. I believe the event is to be termed the Repentance… As for resuming life and the muggles leaving, I cannot tell for certain. Based on reports, the group cannot allow magic use in any public area until it is determined what the substance is. You already know this, I am aware, but it seems as if everything has come to a standstill.”

If Hermione had been quick to fully accept and believe the situation, as most had, she would have felt a sense of helplessness. She also would have thought the only silver lining was the wizards’ temporary relinquishing of magic. And though she was born in the muggle world, Hermione had thought she was beginning to finally understand wizarding society. However, it would seem she was as ignorant as ever. She certainly never would have assumed anyone possessing magic, especially purebloods, would willingly, albeit reluctantly, avoid its use for the sake of future continuity. Although, these were unknown times and the pillars of wizarding Britain no longer stood tall and proud. The destruction of Diagon Alley had already bared the tell-tale mark of change, but the Fall of Hogwarts was something else entirely. So for the time being, it would appear that the muggleborn witch still had much to learn about.

But for now, she had gotten all the answers available to them and only time would tell. Nothing else could be done, everyone would just have to wait and see. With trepidation and slight curiosity, Hermione and Harry accepted this truth. The two stood up to leave and collect Ron before going back to the Burrow in an attempt to escape the strange and harsh reality that had been stumbled upon. For that night and next day, the old Weasley home would be the safe retreat the two solitary young adults so desperately wished for. In a day, the world will once again be turned upside down and there will be no one left to rebuild. Who could fix something that’s become so wrong, it may never be right again?


	4. On the Road to Repentance

**3: On the Road to Repentance**

It had begun and the Trio could only assume they’d been in the area for an hour at most. The perimeter was too large to view all at once so Hermione set about retrieving the tent from her beaded bag. Silently, she sent thanks to anyone listening for allowing her to bring the charmed bag. Though, come to think of it, she wasn’t entirely sure if it was allowed or not. She decided to use the campsite as a marked point for reference.

The terrain was a forest but Hermione could feel the anti-apparition charms pressing heavily down on her, signifying an enclosed space. She could also figure quite easily that there was not a distinguishing border. Most likely, a person walking past the boundary wouldn’t even notice simply because, assumably, they would find themself unknowingly in a random area still contained within the region. Essentially it was like a mobius strip with a never ending distance but an always repeating space. The young woman figured they should begin cautiously scouting the area since neither of the three had seen who the others inside would be. And honestly none of them were particularly eager to find out just yet either. So to distract the boys and herself, Hermione had the boys pitch the tent while she set about with the concealment charms. To her utter dismay, she later scolded herself for not figuring earlier, the magic fizzled away as it left her wand, leaving only some smoke in its place. Apparently active avoidance was not allowed. Fortunately, she had started casting slowly and did not dare think of what would’ve happened if she hadn’t.

Ron had been grumbling that morning about Merlin knows what. Harry and Hermione could swear they heard the redhead complaining about their and Shacklebolt’s betrayal. This continued until she had heard enough, which, turns out, was not very long. Turning quickly, the Golden Girl said, “Nobody is at fault for this situation, Ronald. And if you want to stop being so pig-headed and focus, maybe we can figure something out.”

Harry was appreciative of this as he nodded but Ron wasn’t listening, “What do you mean ‘Mione, there’s nothing to figure out. Stop blindly listening to that rubbish, we need to figure out a way to go after that muggle for limiting our use of magic like this.”

Hermione had enough of the git’s stubbornness. “This is not an ideal situation for anyone, why can’t you accept this is something we are all being forced into.” Secretly she wondered if Ron was the only true Gryffindor brave enough to question the Unknown’s agenda. She found herself trying to pinpoint the exact moment the wizarding world submitted to the mysterious muggle. It had been accepted almost immediately, the people devoted seemingly all remaining hope to the Second Wizarding War. Only the husk of a once prominent society remained.

Harry chimed in to placate their friend, “Mate, we haven’t given up but it might be easier to go after the others. Maybe the Golden Trio will be able to walk away unscathed…”

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron’s reluctance and Harry’s blind optimism as she looked around casually. Luck was on her side. A small _bo_ _om_ with a rising cloud of smoke sounded to her left in the distance. Nobody had seen this except her. Ever the opportunist Gryffindor, she hastily made an excuse to familiarize herself with the surroundings and set off in the direction of the incident. The argument before had made the escape much easier as Harry concluded the witch needed time away from the relentless exasperation.

It was more woodland than forest, she deduced since everything consisted of overgrowth. The Golden Girl had been walking for a few kilometers now, and had yet to question her hurried departure. She assured herself the boys would understand. Also she was the least accident-prone. Yes, this was a good decision. She figured she was growing near as the sound of raised voices could be heard.

She was almost there. By now, Hermione could feel the traces of magic in the air that became stronger the closer she got.

“Crucio!” A shrill voice rang. A cackle followed. Hermione blanched and instinctively dropped to the ground.

She looked around but could see nothing. Sighing, she had done it again and there was never a moment when the young woman wasn’t reminded of the horrors she had witnessed during the war. Everything was clear and so she got up and brushed herself off. She needed to focus and find the magic’s location.

She walked carefully. Yes, she could feel it nearby and getting stronger. The Brightest Witch of Her Age stood still before blinking and smiling, she had found the source. Three adults engaged in a duel, most likely an argument as a result of the anti-concealment charms being activated. Her nerves were steeled as she approached to silently scope the situation.

There she was, standing in a clearing with her wand drawn to the two others, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. Hermione remained hidden but swore Bellatrix’s eyes met hers for a second. Her heart was hammering and the sound was deafening. The predatory witch stalked her prey before releasing her signature cruciatus curse. The men fell silently as they writhed around and their mouths began to foam. This was too much and Hermione had seen enough.

She began to back away until she felt there was enough distance to turn around. This was a mistake. Would she have stayed a moment longer, she would have seen the men gain their footing to run away. And would she have remained, she would have seen Bellatrix head her way. Unfortunately Hermione was no Seer and loathed the mere suggestion of divine abilities, so there was no way she could have predicted the beautiful dark-haired woman’s actions. Beautiful? She might need to see someone about that.

Bellatrix pressed herself into Hermione as she pinned the brunette to a tree. It was wide and tall and would have been a good tree to sit under in a different circumstance. _Focus._ Their bodies were warm together, she was under a vice-like grip, and errant curls tickled her face. The smell she was encased in was comforting despite its owner and earthy, though the young woman couldn’t describe in what way. All in all, it was pretty distracting from the predicament at hand.

“Oh my, Muddy. What brings you here?” The voice was deep and slow. If it had been anyone else, Hermione might have thought she was being come onto and she would not have squeaked out an answer. She could feel where black eyes pierced anything they landed on, soon there would be nothing left.

“A-actually, I have come to see you.” Bellatrix’s face betrayed no emotion but her eyes flashed with surprise. This gave the Gryffindor courage, though she’d never admit to not having any before.

The woman considered this before loosening her grip slightly. Hermione was still very much aware of the position their bodies were in. Before continuing, she took a moment to survey the surroundings to make sure the Lestrange brothers were not still lingering nearby. And of course this action was noticed.

“They will not come close, my dear husband wouldn’t dare dream of it,” Bellatrix said with a spat. She turned her attention back to the muggleborn beneath her, practically purring now. “Do you want me to play with you again? Did I not do enough back at Malfoy Manor?” Her voice was coarse and huskier than Hermione remembered it being.

Summoning the bravery to rival even Godric Gryffindor’s, she did not take the bait and instead chose a different tactic, “What do you mean they won’t?” The Slytherin frowned at her faux pas, she had said too much. Anything information the enemy could gain was a great indiscretion. But, who was the enemy now?

“It will do you well to remember, Pet, that you have been given the same instruction as I… Or are you still scared to fight,” she said with a drawl.

Hermione ignored this. “Would you like me to heal that wound for you?“ She had noticed the gash when the blood began to drip onto her outstretched arms.

Bellatrix scowled and countered back, “As if I would need your help.”

The young woman sighed. She had known Voldemort’s First Lieutenant was prone to irritability. She tried again. “I can heal you if you come with me.”

“And why, pray tell, would I do that?” The raven-haired woman’s response was as snarky as her personality was petulant.

Hermione creased her eyebrows and bit her lip in thought, a bad habit she developed during her third year when she was given McGonagall’s time turner for her many classes. Truth be told, she couldn’t give an answer. There was something about the woman that drew her in and she couldn’t explain it. Maybe it was because the infamous pureblood hadn’t killed her immediately and that sparked her ever-curious nature or perhaps it was the air of authority she always possessed. It was something that made her curious about the dark woman who was her equal opposite in every way. But Hermione knew these were not reasons so instead she quietly said, “Because the war is over.”

“How foolish, as if I wasn’t aware.” Bellatrix snapped but the empathetic witch could spot the resignation hidden deep within those black ink eyes.

She wasn’t sure why but the moment felt private so the young woman whispered, “What will you do?”

Bellatrix was silent before quietly responding, “Do not worry about me.” And before Hermione could answer, the renowned duelist stepped away and left, leaving the Gryffindor missing the warmth. Frowning, the witch sat by the tree as she replayed what just happened.

Night had fallen and she was none the wiser, so the Golden Girl decided to head back to the boys. As she walked, she found herself thinking about the uncharacteristic display of emotion from the distinguished Death Eater and what it could have meant. Perhaps she had imagined it and simply needed sleep. Yes, sleep would be good and tomorrow the Trio would concoct a plan.


	5. The Repentance

**Note:** Hello all. With a chapter a day, this story is finished because I originally only wanted to focus on the brief confusing moment for Hermione that involved her time in the arena. I know there was only a hint of Bellamione but I do plan on a longer sequel that focuses more on the two women as they grow closer to one another after. It will also be more about the Unknown and what people will do to stop the group.

**4: The Repentance**

It was reaching the witching hour when Hermione woke with a start. She hadn’t been able to get a peaceful night’s sleep since the war and tonight was no different. Except, it was. Images of the dark witch she encountered the day before penetrated her dreams. She remembered the woman was laying on top of her and at some point, the scene had switched to Bellatrix draping herself across the chair with Hermione in bed.

She blushed. It would do no good to recall and will the… was it a fantasy or nightmare? Whatever it had been, she would not conjure the thought into existence. Instead, she got up and began to move around the tent. Perhaps she’d be able to think about everything that had happened recently. It had all occurred at a jarring pace and it felt like she and the boys were the only ones left behind to pick up the remains. Ron was snoring, rather loudly, in his bed. Hermione shook her head. He was a mess, clothes were strewn around the floor but how? They hadn’t even been in there for a complete day yet. She looked around. Harry was not in the tent, most likely unable to sleep as well. She would go look for him.

The war was supposed to be the end. They were supposed to live normally now. Hermione would go back to school and the boys would become aurors, why couldn’t they have had that life? But nothing could ever be normal it would seem and, she supposed, it was better this way. These days it felt like she was wading in an ocean with an ever-rising tide, except the moon was gone and there was nothing that could help her predict what comes next.

Harry was standing outside looking at the expanse of wood. He sighed dejectedly. “I know only one of us will make it out and it won’t be me, it must be you. It’s got to be you ‘Mione, only you can fix this.”

Hermione stepped up and hugged him as he began to lose his breath. The young man’s eyes were bagged and bloodshot. He had been outside the entire time, how had she not noticed? There was nothing she could say. Rather attempt a weak response, she would offer something more soothing.

“Earlier, I think I saw some red clovers nearby. I could go collect them to brew a calming tea.” Harry, knowing this was Hermione’s way out of the conversation by not acknowledging the situation, simply nodded. Perhaps a wild tea would be nice. Either way, it would be good for the both of them. And so the Golden Girl set out into the woods.

She remembered the flower was near the tree Bellatrix had pinned her to. Surely the woman would not be around. After all, it was still an early hour and why was the Gryffindor even thinking of her? This was for Harry to help him. The lieutenant wouldn’t even stay in the same area, she was too good for that. Reassured, Hermione continued deeper until the bright flowers appeared. Luckily these plants were much closer to the site than the first ones she had seen. Quickly, she bent down to scoop the cluster up.

As she reached for the stems, the young woman noticed a dark marking on the trunk the flowers surrounded. It looked as if it was burned or an errant hex had struck it. Pocketing the clovers, Hermione stood up and looked around. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed earlier because the moon was not as bright, or perhaps she was simply too caught up in her own thoughts to pay any attention to the details of the bark. Some of the trees were singed and others’ branches were split. It was the tall oak that had the most peculiar damage.

The wood had been dulled, as if someone had been punching it, which seemed to be the case if the splattered blood was anything to go off of. She looked down to see if there might be a trail of damage or anything to signify what happened next. And of course there were droplets of blood leading in a direction she hadn’t been familiar with.

A few meters to the right of the possible crime scene was a person or shadow, she couldn’t tell through the obstructed light. Hermione scolded herself for having been so unaware. Always the image of Gryffindor bravery, or recklessness, she approached the sitting figure. As she grew near, she could make out completely a black mass of curls. Of course it was the woman known for her prodigal skill. Then again, who else was famous for such outbursts.

Gathering her breath, she spoke, “Bellatrix…” It was neither a question nor statement, but maybe it had been something in between the two. There was not much to be said and both women knew. Hermione studied the woman in front of her. Bruised and bloodied, the young woman wondered why the skilled witch hadn’t healed herself yet. Bone peaked through the beaten, raw fist where it had been hit repeatedly against the strong and sturdy oak. A soft wheeze could be heard now in the calm of the woods. Dawn had reached its arms out and penetrated the thick tree tops, as the sun began to shine through. It was beautiful and Hermione would have wished to return were it not for the inevitable memories that would haunt her, should she survive.

“You’re injured, I will heal you.” This was not a request. The demand shocked both women but neither bothered to question it. Bellatrix shrugged and Hermione could not tell if it had been out of indifference or pain so she would assume it was both. Quickly and silently, she levitated the immobile woman and began her way back. She willed the dark witch not to bleed out and found herself wondering if Bellatrix wasn’t able to heal herself.

As she got closer to the tent, she wondered if she should have maybe discussed this with the boys, or at least warned them before. There was still time to tell the two, but that would take too long to explain. And this woman was wounded and Hermione could help. Ever since the Trio went on the run a year and a half ago, the Brightest Witch of Her Age had become very familiar with healing magic. So much so that she briefly considered training under Andromeda Tonks, a friend of hers in the Order. But that desire came and went, as they often do and she had a job to do now.

Harry emerged from the tent rubbing his eyes and yawning. She was glad he was able to sleep, no matter how little it was. He only needed his rising anger to wake him up, it turned out. “Hermione, who is that? Wait, what are you doing with her? Why is she here?”

“Honestly Harry I do not have time to quell you. I found her injured, I couldn’t just leave her there.” Hermione didn’t know why but she found herself needing to do this. Maybe it was her way of proving her worth to the pureblood. Every time the two women had met in battle, Bellatrix always held the upper hand. In some twisted way, she wanted to learn the woman’s knowledge. Or maybe it was her own ideas of greatness, perhaps she could help the woman. After all, Hermione staunchly believed in the idea that people can change... they had, right?

Harry sighed and stepped away, allowing for the women’s entrance into the tent. “I’m only doing this because I trust you but we will talk about it after.”

Hermione moved quickly, placing Bellatrix on a table in the furthest leftmost room, away from the kitchen and any distractions. Grabbing the beaded bag, which was always stocked with basic field wound supplies, two potions were summoned.

The blood had not stopped flowing openly and Hermione couldn’t find an exact wound to apply pressure on. “This is not something to be awake for,” she said as she poured the potions down the glaring woman’s throat. It would replenish the lost blood and effectively put the patient to sleep for about an hour or so. Only long enough to fix the immediate issues, there wasn’t enough time or resources at hand to completely heal everything.

Once the urgent wounds were addressed and Bellatrix was able to rest peacefully, Hermione took a moment to go find the boys who she figured went outside. She hadn’t noticed Ron wake or walk out, but how would she? Stitching Bellatrix’s gashes and mending her bones took total and complete concentration, or else the outcome might not be an improvement.

Harry stood watch at the entrance of the tent but Ron was nowhere to be seen. “He left again.” Hermione was mad. This had been the second time now that the two were left together because of the redhead’s anger. She was tired of this and truth be told, the Trio never fully recovered from the first reaction. The two were silent before Harry spoke up again, this time to voice the question that had been running through his mind, “Why? And why her?”

His voice was pained and Hermione couldn’t bear it. “I don’t know Harry. But I feel like I need to do this, I can’t explain why…” She trailed off. How could she offer an explanation that she wasn’t even sure of.

The two were silent for a moment each lost in thought before Harry softly cleared his throat. “You know sometimes I get mad, really mad. And I don’t know why or to whom my anger is for. I say this but I think I know. Sometimes I get so mad at everyone. Sometimes I am mad at Voldemort for starting all of this, but then I remember Dumbledore showing me memories of his childhood in the pensive. Other times it’s directed at Snape, I spent so many years hating him only to find out that he’d been trying to protect me all those years. These days I’ve been mad about the Unknown, but they’re just trying to help, right? I guess what I’m trying to say is that at some point, I need to stop being mad because anger isn’t everything… I can’t say I understand you doing this, but I won’t resent you for it.”

Hermione had teared up. Gone was the stubborn boy she had met, in his place stood a man who had matured beautifully despite the tragedies in his life. The sun had risen now and its location suggested it was early morning. The two hugged briefly, its meaning extending far deeper than words could ever, before going inside. Harry began to brew the remaining coffee the Trio had left from their time in the Forest of Dean. To his dismay, Hermione set out three cups before shrugging at the questioning gaze.

“She might like coffee, I don’t know.”

Unfortunately, the Boy Who Lived had been unable to string together a coherent thought in time before the drink was ready and the Golden Girl had set out to check on her patient.

Hermione walked up to the room with Bellatrix’s coffee in hand. She didn’t even think the pureblood would know about the muggle drink but she wouldn’t be blamed for not trying. There was no light inside and she couldn’t remember if she had left the room like that or not.

“Bellatrix?” She called softly. Her eyes scanned the area but there was no sign of the woman. Had she woken up and left? No, this wouldn’t have been possible since the friends had spoken at the tent entrance. She placed the coffee on the table and walked deeper inside. Where could she have gone?

There hadn’t been time to cry out in alarm as two strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Hermione had been a fool for forgetting the shadows were where the dark woman thrived most.

“Morning Muddy.” Bellatrix was so close to her. Could the other woman feel her heart beat wildly, was it shaking them? Despite her bravery, the Gryffindor thought she might faint. She felt the witch holding her tense. Straining her neck, Hermione turned to see what Bellatrix was looking at.

The pureblood’s nose wrinkled in disgust as she eyed the steaming mug suspiciously. “What is this?” She walked towards the table and bent slightly to inhale the aroma.

Flustered and tongue tied, Hermione stuttered, “It- it’s coffee. A muggle drink… that’s hot. Usually. But sometimes it isn’t, it can be cold too. P-people drink it for energy.” This made Bellatrix scoff disinterested. Except if she hadn’t been intently studying the witch, Hermione would not have noticed the slight crease in her eyebrows. The woman was curious. “I brought it in here for you.”

Bellatrix grumbled under her breath and Hermione’s strained ears could not distinguish the sounds as words. She did not have to guess, though, since the woman gingerly picked up the cup. The Golden Girl never would have guessed the Death Eater behaved so human. It confused her and everything she had known. She thought back to the conversation with Harry. She had known he always carried around a deep rage when he found out about his parent’s death, she just hoped that in time he would finally find peace.

Hermione shook her thoughts away and focused on across the room. The dark witch slowly and uneasily took a sip of the coffee. At first she looked apprehensive, her eyes were narrow then widened. It was as if in slow motion, she watched as Bellatrix’s mouth spread and morphed into a wide grin and her eyes gleamed with delight. She chuckled but it was a mistake. Immediately the woman closed herself off again, remembering where she was and who she was with. Rather than acknowledge the embarrassing display, the raven-haired woman composed herself and quickly downed the rest of the steaming drink before carelessly breezing past the young woman in search for more. If it had been anyone else she had seen practically chug coffee, Hermione would’ve thought the throat’d be burned raw.

Walking out, she headed to the kitchen where she saw Bellatrix taking her drink and Harry looking back at her apologetically. Everything felt so surreal but here she was, watching her tortuer, the famed pureblood supremacist, drinking a muggle brew with her best friend. It would seem her life liked to take surprising twists and turns. She shook her head to dispel the unrelated thought. It was time to plan their next step.

With Ron having disappeared again, Harry’s idea was the most realistic response. They would go after the Lestrange brothers first. Hermione gave a brief synopsis of everything she had gathered about the area they were being kept in. Since she had been unsure of the boundary’s placement and thus the entire perimeter, the three decided it would be best to set a trap for the brothers. And, as Hermione had found out earlier, and the siblings had yet to learn, the reacting anti-concealment charms did a good job at drawing attention.

At midday the three set the trap. Bellatrix’s magic did quick work to draw the men near. The Lestranges’ breathing was loud and ragged as they approached. Hermione and Harry stood behind a tree off to the left with Bellatrix at the right end some meters away, the two Gryffindors were still weary of the Slytherin. Of course, there was never anything explicitly agreed on and instead, the three settled on an uneasy and unofficial truce.

There was a crunch to her left and Hermione didn’t dare peak. The steps drew nearer before stopping at the sound of a loud clang which followed by a piercing scream. This was not part of the plan. Giving in, she turned around and peaked. Rabastan Lestrange had found himself caught in a muggle bear trap that had been hidden by a large tree root. Hermione took a mental note that there was a sign of active muggle presence. And though it was not what they were waiting for, this cue was good enough for the three to rush into battle. The Golden Girl went to Rabastan, whose leg now rendered him sluggish in the duel.

To her side was Bellatrix fighting in all her glory. The dark witch was in her element and everyone could tell, even her rival and husband, Rodolphus. The legends of the power she wielded were true, the woman was a prodigy. And it was clear who the victor of the two would be. It seemed for now, Bellatrix was biding her time with her prey. Her eyes were alight with the promise of pain as she sent rounds of the cruciatus to her opponent. It was only a matter of time before the man would fall.

Hermione wondered where Harry had gone. It wasn’t until she heard a familiar voice and she dreaded for her suspicion to be confirmed. Ron had emerged from the same direction as the brothers and she couldn’t bring herself to comprehend what the new development meant. The Golden Girl could vaguely make out Harry’s accusation that Ron had joined with the brothers against the two. What was worse was the claim was not completely false. Secretly Hermione predicted that the redhead would either go rogue, become blinded by promises of grandeur, or worse, both but she had hoped she wasn’t correct. It had been the latter, it would seem. And unfortunately, ever the know-it-all, the Brightest Witch of Her Age had anticipated her once best friend’s betrayal.

She had let her guard down and a stray _diffindo_ sliced across her cheek. She had to focus on the duel at hand but it was a hard thing to do when the two ex-friends began arguing. With a burning loathing for Ron’s stupidity and disloyalty, she fired off a barrage of spells. This forced the younger Lestrange into an offensive position as he struggled to keep the attacks at bay. It was no use though, Hermione’s rage had her strike with a precision and ferocity she had never possessed before. The young woman was a force to be reckoned with and it felt exhilarating, she felt powerful. The duel was quickly ended when the Gryffindor, always representing the characteristic lion’s bravery, sent an _expulso_ in front of Rabastan’s feet. The force caused the man to be sent backwards in the tree. The crack of his neck was unmistakable and Hermione filed this away with the rest of her battle-filled memories as she turned to Harry and Ron.

The two wizards did not hold back on the other, both were fighting with more hatred than either held during the war. But everything was happening too fast and Hermione was too far away. Ron’s dueling was increasingly sloppier as he became driven by anger and Harry was too deep into his own rage to realize just how much of an advantage he had. She wanted to scream out for them to stop but found herself unable to move as Harry’s well aimed _sectumsempra_ slit Ron’s throat. Hermione never had been good at reading lips but suddenly she had understood as she watched the redhead’s lips expand and contort to utter the fatal words with his last dying breaths. The Boy Who Lived had been struck by the killing curse.

Hermione felt the air leave her body as she ran to the two bodies. She sank to the ground and clutched the men’s legs. She gripped the warm corpses with all her strength, as if willing the life back into them. A cry wracked through her body in pain as magic in the air began to tingle and pulse. She didn’t care about the raw magic that was running rampant around her. How could she go back and face the very man who swore to protect her, the Light, and the wizarding society while sending her to her death. Except it hadn’t been her death. It felt unfair that she had gotten lucky and survived. Maybe this had been what Harry was talking about.

Had he known this would happen and why would he not stop it? A wave of nausea hit her as she tried to make sense of her friend’s last wish. Her vision was blurring and if she didn’t calm down soon, she would faint. But how could she not be upset. Everything had happened so quickly. These past few months had been so questionable and she had been too stationary. And before she had figured out if there was anything to investigate, she had been placed in an arena as a sacrifice.

Arms wrapped around her and Hermione struggled to resist the locked grip. Someone was holding her still. “Easy Pet, it’s me.” Bellatrix was warm and the young woman couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. She was not sure why the witch was helping her but as she turned to face the dark-hair woman, she didn’t care. All that mattered now was moving forward. But for this moment, Hermione allowed herself the brief comfort as she turned to hug the former Death Eater. The lieutenant stiffened at the embrace but gradually calmed and huffed begrudgingly as she reciprocated the action, much to the Golden Girl’s surprise.

Hermione no longer had the boys to rely on, but maybe she and Bellatrix could grow to understand each other. In the end, the two women were the last remaining figures of the Light and Dark. She knew it would take time but maybe one day they could find companionship in one another. Yes, a friendship would be lovely. That moment when the brunette knew eventually time would heal everything and she would be okay. She had to be, right?


End file.
